tales2apoint

…stories and poetry to touch, teach, & turn the heart toward truth.

Moments of Unparalleled Sequence 2

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II.

A dream of ecstasy. He came and went. Then he returned and returned again. Not physically, but mentally he was present. Oh, how he was present! It was a beautiful, fleeting, lust-filled moment. A moment of unparalleled sequence. A moment that could never be repeated. He never wanted to repeat it, but he wanted more of it.

Aln opened his eyes. He didn’t see much, but his eyes were opened. He wanted to see more, but all he saw was the darkness of night. He saw the dim, lava-colored glow of his alarm clock. It was too close to morning.

‘Alarm clocks are stressful.’

 He saw the glow of a street light in glaring stripes through the blinds of his window. Outside, the green of an abandoned soccer field filled his view

‘Soccer…one more part of life I don’t know anything about.’

He heard the start up whirl of a small refrigerator’s generator at the foot of his bunk. He took in the smell of an apartment frequented by a regular influx of college students. It didn’t smell bad—not yet. It smelled used.

‘Used isn’t always bad. It really means that it’s good enough to be around for a little while. Maybe I’m just saying that so I feel like I have something intelligent to say. Probably.’

He was having another one of those nights. Nights were good when they meant relief, sleep. They were bad when they meant thinking, pondering, facing deep reality.

‘I’m really sick of reality. I hate it. I hate that I can’t escape it. Why can’t I just forget reality?’

Maybe that was his problem. He wanted to be free–free from reality, free from consequence—but he knew there was no freedom in what he wanted. He only wanted it because it felt like freedom. It only felt like freedom because it was different from his current prison.

‘What prison?’

This was definitely a prison. It was engulfing him. He was ready to sell himself. He knew it was a mistake, but he didn’t feel like being strong.

‘It will make sense someday.’

Would it be too late?

Late…2:30 AM…it was late! He closed his eyes again, more firmly this time, tried to relax, found relief, and slowly fell to sleep.

{This is part two of six…keep reading for part three! I will post the whole story as one post after all the parts have been posted.}

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Author: Clayton from tales2apoint

Stories and poetry to teach, touch, & turn hearts to truth. I love God, my wife, & others. I'm indebted to their love.

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